


Cock O' The Morning To Ya

by Gilded_Pleasure



Series: Love Bites [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Play, At Least One(1) Cock Probably, Biting, Bruises, Deepthroating, Emotional Discomfort, Exotic Frottage of the Third Kind, Gay Adults Having Emotional Difficulties, Hectocotylus, LOTS of ORAL, Magic Telepathic Jizz, No Walking Either, No shame, Oral, Other, This is XENO, Weird Xeno Sex Feelings, Whiskey Dick Two: Tentacle Boogaloo, Xenobiology, kustard - Freeform, morning after sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilded_Pleasure/pseuds/Gilded_Pleasure
Summary: Red gets caught pants-handed.He's been in over his head for a while now, and he knows it's already too late.This is the sequel toWhiskey Dick, and a suspiciously tender morning-after fic.With tentacles.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Love Bites [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906990
Comments: 25
Kudos: 107





	Cock O' The Morning To Ya

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t expect any given person to be familiar with my bullshit, so please understand when I say xeno, I mean xeno. Nonhuman fucktimes. *thumbs up*

“…you forgot the _thank you, ma’am_.”

Red freezes where he’s hunched over, a little pissed he couldn’t tell Sans was awake before that hungover croak caught him with his pants in hand.

Shit. His reflexes are getting rusty as hell. Red decides he’s got no clue what time it is, because when the light’s barely there and grey like this he’s usually seeing it _before_ bed.

“howzabout you get me some water?” Sans rasps with a suspiciously fragile smirk. “since you’re already so red-eyed n bushy-tailed.”

Red stands and turns around, puts on his best casual grin. From Sans’s expression, that didn’t work too good. Well, it sorta feels like a knife’s lodged in his right socket, so he has an excuse. Speaking of which, Red adds a raised browbone.

“no good deed goes unpunished, huh?” He uses the shorts in his hand to brush off some of the powdery crap left over from last night’s fuck. “guess i shoulda just used your sheets.” Nice little love letter from his jackass of a past self all about how he’d been on his back crying and begging for Sans’s jizz. There’s a ton of it, but Red puts the shorts on after a few halfhearted swipes.

“you gonna get me some water or not?” Sans croaks, scratching over the sheets at his own pelvis.

The toybox is still on the bed, at some point tipped to spill its exhaustive bounty all over Sans’s topsheet. The forgotten harness is down by his feet, looking terminally knotted around the base of last night’s dusty dong.

Sans has anal beads on his pillow.

Red scoffs and grabs his phone. He clambers back into the bed like he’s doing Sans a favor, leaning up against the headboardless wall to look down at him scathingly. _Then_ he does him a favor, but not before letting Sans reach for the bottle of water he uncaps and drinks from himself. Only then does he provide its evil twin to his own _evil_ twin, white-eyed despite being remarkably full of shit.

Yeah, Red finally hit it. And maybe bit off a little more than he can chew in the process, oof. Sans is pretty marked up.

Red suppresses a shudder, remembering heart-itch keener than any he’s felt before, bone between his teeth that wasn’t his own. Red got a taste and kept going. Which is just as well considering Sans’s soul was actually starting to manifest, and Red couldn’t have borne that without doing... _something_. Not that he knows from experience. He just knows. That’s not really an excuse, though. Fact is, Red bit his face because wanted to make this last more than one night, somehow. Because Sans looked so fucking good panting and moaning under him, felt so real trembling between his teeth. And Sans just….let him.

Now Sans is letting him ogle his bones with exaggerated patience shining through his haggard, hungover expression, something hot behind it. Pissed off maybe, now the jizz and whiskey’s run dry? Red abruptly feels like his face is glowing.

“sorry,” Red says shortly. Sans just stares at him like he grew a second, more-polite head, so Red taps his own chin pointedly. Sans blushes, reminded that his own is marked and how it got that way. They both look away at the same time.

“i, uh.” A short huff. “how did you know that would work?”

Red shrugs, prays Sans isn’t watching his profile. “what do _you_ do about it, then?”

“nothing?”

Red’s a little surprised, but hey. Whatever Sans is into. Teasing, edging, losing his mind from heart-itch, Red’s not judging.

(He’s judging.)

Red decides not to tell Sans that Red doesn’t go around letting just anyone come in him. Might give Sans the idea that Red’s uptight about who he fucks, and he’s not. Sans ain’t special.

(He’s special.)

Truth is, Red’s wanted Sans for a long time now. And that’s not even why he keeps coming over to do dumbass shit like _h_ _anging out_ and _enjoying himself_. That little habit’s probably for the same reason Sans had been pretty humiliated about his dick being soft, but let Red take his pleasure with it anyhow. Making Sans scream like that, even with the hollow climax of a soft, dry fuck…was certainly its own reward. Makes Red lick the backside of his teeth, because his mouth drops just thinking about it. Sans’s eyes catch the glisten.

Red takes a sip of water with it real quick; nothing to see here.

“you seem pretty good at that, yeah,” he rumbles. Doing nothing, he means. Then he drains the bottle and throws it in the corner before producing another. Sans is still holding his first instead of drinking. Hasn’t moved much or sat up yet. Red eyes his hidden pelvis, wonders if he really did himself an injury last night. That had been…unexpected.

Yeah, Red wanted to fuck Sans for a long time, but that doesn’t mean the bar was high. He certainly wasn’t expecting his lazy ass to be any _good_ , and Red fully anticipated having to do all the work.

The last thing he expected was for Sans to go through the five stages of grief trying to get _Red_ off. Not that it would’ve taken a quarter of what went down. Maybe if Sans hadn’t been so off his face he couldn’t even get it up, he might have noticed Red spent the whole time one wrong breath away from coming so hard he blacked out. The series of interruptions had been a blessing, since he’d _wanted_ to drag it out. Red’s cunt usually comes like a string of firecrackers; once the first one pops off he’s gotta keep going or he hits the wall. Drunk as he was, he planned to get his Big Mistake’s worth out of the whole shebang.

(Sans eased right off his clit _before_ touching it, once Red gave him the no-no hand. What kind of considerate pussy pays _that_ much attention, even as fucked up as Sans had been?)

Thing is, a thimble of fuck-spill leaks louder than a gallon of words. Sans wanted to get Red off, sure. But between every why is another why.

The sad fact is...Sans wants to make Red _happy_. And Red…

(Wants to let him.)

…thinks he’s a sucker.

Red’s not really used to being at a loss for words. But it seems he is. He casts around for something to say, comes up as dry now as he was wet last night. Thinks about saying it was good...but Sans already knows, he was _there_. No bones about it. He definitely doesn’t want Sans to get the impression that Sans is the best lay Red’s ever had or anything like that. Especially because he is.

Sans seems to take Red silent scowling as a challenge. He sits up slowly enough that Red has a hard time telling if he’s genuinely sore, or just egregiously lazy. It pisses Red off.

“can’t really argue with that,” Sans rumbles dryly, then finally wets his whistle with Red’s grudging gift.

Red drinks again to cover his discomfiture, something in Sans’s expression making him cautious. He’s still trying to get a bead on if Sans is mad about that part at the beginning or not. Sure, Red’s a creep, but he’s not a _creep_. Pawing at someone who’s too out of it to know what’s up holds an appeal percentage somewhere in the triple negatives for Red. He’d really just been dumb and drunk enough to convince himself Sans really was (finally) propositioning him. Red watches Sans drink, and Sans watches him back. All over.

Red’s face heats as Sans’s gaze flickers over his bare ribcage. It’s also marked from Sans’s flat little teeth, but more lightly, and barely noticeable with all the scars and cracks decorating his bones already. Reminds him how eager Sans had been to explore them last night, wiggling his tongue right into every divot he could find like he was digging crumbs out of the corner of a bag of chisps. Red’s not really used to someone being that interested in parts of Red that aren’t involved in getting _them_ off.

Sans’s eyes flare, and Red almost chokes on his water. Yeah…wow, okay. The heat that’s been simmering behind those icewhite eyes ain’t _mad_.

Red steadies his breathing by force of will, chugs, then makes a decision. His attempt to leave before Sans woke up, let shit get nice and awkward until they could both (forget Red begging and crying, coming uncontrollably all over Sans’s dick) pretend it didn’t happen, well. That didn’t pan out, so maybe it’s time to change tactics. Sans thinks he’s real slick, but he ain’t. That _I don’t give a shit_ front doesn’t work on Red, and it pisses him off to no end that Sans keeps it up anyways. Like he’s got something to prove.

(Red wants to break Sans open like a melon and eat whatever kinda mess he _really_ is right out of his stupid skull, seeds and all.)

Red doesn’t want to think too hard about what _that_ means.

And it suddenly seems to him like doing it again would be a pretty good distraction.

Red decides to turn his wheel into the skid. He finishes his water and so does Sans, then scoots down til they’re back even. As an afterthought, he takes the beads from where they rolled against Sans’s skull and throws them on the floor.

“you wanna-”

“yeah,” Sans says before he finishes. Then Red makes a surprised noise, because Sans is already on him. His next exhale’s already half a moan, because Sans goes right for a kiss instead of his pelvis. Their mouths are still out from drinking and Sans is already wet for him, he _wants_ him, he’s _so fucking_ \--

“wait,” Red mutters, or tries to around getting suddenly tonguefucked in his mouthhole. His hand under Sans’s jaw is gentle, but firm. Sans is flushed all up to the forehead as he pulls back, “s-sorry-”

“shut up,” Red says short and breathless, and Sans actually does. Red forces his thoughts back where they go, scattered by discovering this lazy bastard's unexpected enthusiasm for fucking isn’t alcohol-dependent. Holy shit. Red takes a deep breath and sighs it out.

“can’t guarantee i won’t spill,” Red says plainly. No point pussyfooting. Every monster knows there’s a chance anytime bodies get to tangling. They avoid each other’s eyes for a minute. Neither suggest they find something to use, not even last night’s ridiculous lube gambit. And it's not like they make condoms in even half the shapes their junk can be.

Sans clears magic in his skull; a short, tight little noise. “well, we ain’t shitfaced now, so maybe we can actually hold our fuckin’ jizz.”

“and maybe not,” Red says flatly. “’m askin’ you if you want me ta deal with it if it gets bad again.”

Sans struggles with it, and Red lets him.

“why not,” he says eventually, then keeps struggling. Red bites down his annoyance in service to getting laid. Sans is still visibly flustered about pouncing on him like that, and Red lets him twist in the wind some more. Ignores the way he’s kinda twisting in it too. If Sans is embarrassed to want _Red_ , well. He ain’t the first. If Sans is gonna be hung up about wanting a roughneck, Red already knows that little song and--

“can i do you too?” Sans breathes quick and shaky, staring down at the marks he left on Red’s ribs last night. Then he reaches out and thumbs one of the faint pinkish crescents, like he can’t resist. Sends a jolt of arousal and something deeper (more dangerous) right to Red’s pelvis (and some _where_ deeper, more dangerous).

Oh.

“yeah,” Red grunts quickly, then pulls Sans right the hell back down. Kissing is less of a bumpy ride than talking, turns out. Sans _isn’t_ hung up on Red’s LV. Red knows it hits a lot smoother than it used to. He knows what Red did is _special_ , even if he didn’t know that it’s a Thing. He knows it was special to Red.

Red and Sans both know they’re gonna get sloppy again. Red _knew_ if Sans woke up, if he _wanted_ to….Red didn’t stand a chance. He’d fuck him again without some time for shit to cool down, now that they’ve blown the lid off whatever the hell this is. It doesn’t matter if they could hold their jizz now. They won’t.

It’s too good not to.

Red tries to let the strength of Sans’s desire push thoughts out of his mind, even though he knows Sans can probably hint out his weird, wibbly feelings in the kiss anyhow. Red stops caring so much, because now Sans is touching him again. Delicate fingertips find all Red’s dings and dents, the spots where he’s still smooth like he’s memorizing them. Sans moans into Red’s mouth, suddenly shameless as he finds Red’s genitalia emerging hot and ready. Sans massages him delicately through his shorts, and after a minute he pulls back to blink down at Red.

“so did you wanna, uh...?”

Red reaches down to see what’s coming out, and...welpity welp. Little bit of a commitment, but...

“you got anywhere ta be?”

“why the fuck would i?”

“no reason.” Red smirks. “you know this one?”

“huh?”

Red sighs in annoyance and wriggles around until Sans gives him room to get his shorts back off. Sans’s don’t-know-don’t-care mime act is annoying as fuck. Red already would’ve kicked his apathetic ass if it didn’t also make him horny, and Red’s not about to second guess his own horny instincts. Might as well throw out the whole pelvis; no point in trying to _reason_ with that sort of thing.

“ _this_ ,” he says, bringing Sans’s ridiculously smooth fingers to Red’s emerging genitalia. He actually bothers to look this time, so that’s helpful.

“oh,” Sans says in a different tone. Sometimes a commitment feels like one, too. On more than one level. Red’s face seethes with magic, but hey. Someone’s junk doesn’t mean anything.

“yeah, _oh_. you interested?”

“sure.” The casual answer’s belied by the shaky breath that carries it.

“you wanna match em?” Sans starts to say _huh_ again and Red snaps, “same as me or different, for fucks sakes?”

Sans glances away uncomfortably. Then, of course, he shrugs like he doesn’t care.

“don’t really care,” he mumbles on cue. “whatever comes out.”

Sans distracts Red by helping to tease his genitalia out further, which takes a bit since there’s a lot of it. They concentrate on that for a few minutes before Sans adds, “you usually do that?”

Red huffs. “guess you weren’t fibbing about that never-been-with-a-skeleton thing.”

Sans blushes, and Red preens knowing that’s a tidbit Sans would have rather kept to himself. Sans caresses the tip, then brings him up to his teeth, scenting him delicately. Red loses his train of thought when sees the glisten under Sans’s jaw, sighing with anticipation.

“gonna suck me, sansy?” he rumbles quietly.

“suppose i could do that,” he simpers, brushing Red across the flats of his teeth again. He parts them, and Red hums as Sans’s hot tongue explores him lightly. The slick nudges of Sans wanting to get him off feel crisp without alcohol clogging up his mind and body, and Red curls his piece against Sans’s tongue til he gets wet too. Sans puts the tip inside, rubs his tongue underneath.

Yeah, Red’s into it. Not as into it as he could be, though. The second the thought crosses his mind, it apparently also crosses his face. Sans pulls off Red’s hectocotylus with a soft, wet noise.

“how d’you do it, then?” He licks his teeth clean of Red’s magic. Red cocks a browbone at him, but can’t deny it gives him a thrill.

“want a lil show, eh?” He snorts, then lurches up to his elbow though he doesn’t actually need to. In one deft, practiced motion, he wraps his fingers around the base and pulls the slippery tentacle straight up to his teeth. He gives it a gentle nuzzle so his body gets the gist, knows it’s time for some fun. His mouth’s already wet inside when it drops.

The growl of anticipation Red makes as he lolls his tongue out isn’t feigned. His own expert mouth seeks out the ridges along the stiffened tip, but only teases for a second before he takes it in and sucks hard. Red purrs for his own earthy-spicy taste, a familiar little hello as he savors the pulling sensation that reaches deep to stoke the beginnings of urgency.

It’s not like being in Sans; this is just how Red feels, but…. _more_. He holds himself carefully in his mouth, then works his hand back down to the base at his pubis, wraps fingers around and puts some tension on it. He eases up _real_ quick though, since it turns out he’s still feeling just how hard Sans gave it to him last night. Red makes a sheepish noise, and Sans winks at him in acknowledgment.

“not too patient, huh?” Sans snerks quietly, as if there isn’t lust diluting the points in his sockets until they nearly fill the space. Red chuckles softly around his piece, gives it another hard suck. He shifts to hold under the tip with his other hand like a comically big cigar and pulls it out to speak.

“i just like to get it primed,” Red says, gives himself another wet caress down below. The flare of arousal in Sans’s sockets watching him...wow, that’s really doing it for Red. “gets the tip harder, feels more….” he gives it a lick, “….sensitive.”

“yeah?” Sans leans in and starts fondling Red’s bones, so Red melts back into the pillows to let him while Red pleasures himself. Sans makes a noise deep in his skull when Red takes it inside to suck some more. Then he starts running his mouth like always.

“gotta admit, i’m still not sure how you manage not to chew on it,” he says, voice rough with arousal despite his light tone. “not even doing that, uh,” Sans lays his index phalanx across his own teeth, "thing."

Red makes a derisive sound, decides to put on even more of a show since it’s (turning him on how into his pleasure Sans is) not exactly rocket science. It’s all about the angle. He takes the tip as deep as he can, holds the base gently, and uses his other hand to tease the length of it here and there. He grunts when Sans tickles his tentacle, leaning up and over him on the heel of his hand while he touches Red with the other. Gets a nice view of Red angling his chin high so he’s using the soft parts of his mouth instead of the teeth.

When Sans leans in close enough to scent him, Red just kind of assumes he’s ready for his close up. He’s definitely _not_ expecting Sans to open his mouth and tangle his tongue right in there with his, but he sure does. Red moans high and surprised, a crammed-full _oh fuck_ made incoherent as it exits his nasal cavity.

Making out around the slippery tip of Red’s genitalia is way more of a turn on that it sounds like on paper, and on paper it sounds like a wild wank fantasy come true. Their magic mingles as they lick and suck Red together, and everything else just falls away for a while. Red starts making hungry little grunts around his piece as Sans licks lower than he can get, moans when he comes back up to push his tongue back in Red’s mouth.

Red could do _this_ for the next two hours, but...dammit, he’s not gonna lie there and just let Sans dismantle him. Red’s no pillow princess, although it’s a surprise to find out Sans isn’t either. It takes longer than Red anticipated to make himself pull out of their tangled, squirmy kiss, but he does it. Then he reaches up for his piece because Sans is still going to town. He blinks his sockets open as Red eases it away like he was in some kind of tentacle-sucking trance. Hot. Red’s voice comes out in a little _hnn_ noise, so he clears magic in his skull and tries again.

“i haven’t even seen what you’ve got yet, dude. you gonna join the party or what?”

“mm?” Sans blinks down at himself sitting between Red’s femurs, like he’s just now noticing the blanket still bunched around his pelvis. “oh, uh. s’just my dick again.” He reaches down and moves the fabric aside, keeps talking while he does. “not too sure i wanna do anything with it, though. i kinda fucked it up last night.” Sans chuckles, a lot more blasé than Red expected.

Smaller than last night, heh, Red’s gonna feeling _that_ kielbasa where it counts for a while. But Sans is worse off, a deep indigo smudge darkening the leftside tip of his cock. That's a _real_ bruise, not lovebites like they left on their bones. Sans shrugs, but Red lets out a derisive huff.

“don’t be ri _dick_ ulous. we c’n work around that.”

Sans glances at the tipped toybox for some reason.

“everything i got in there is gonna press on it,” Sans demurs, “and, uh...” He holds up his hands and clacks his fingers against each other to demonstrate their hardness.

“well, i was just gonna suck it,” Red points out flatly. He can keep the back of his mouth nice and soft. Red doesn’t get why Sans is making it complicated.

“i can wait,” he says evasively. Red’s grin returns in full. Sansy wants to _wait_ for him, ain’t that sweet. Heh. Sans doesn’t think he can _last_ in Red’s mouth.

He lets the warm glow of an unintended compliment settle in, satisfying as a stolen french fry. He’s not even close to out of options.

“how ‘bout this?” Red gives his aimlessly slithering piece a stroke, then holds it out in offering. “won’t press the tip that way.” Sans looks down and toys with Red’s junk when Red tries to meet his gaze, puts his bullshit-don’t-care grin back. It’s crooked.

“just frot ‘em? fine with me, i guess.” Sans makes a short, rough noise. “i gotta go easy though, dunno if you’re gonna get much out of i-”

Red doesn’t bother holding back his laugh. Keeps laughing at Sans’s squeak when he finds himself suddenly on his back with Red straddling him, elbows to either side of his trembling shoulders. There we go, Red’s reflexes are back online. Pays to stay hydrated. Guess Sans has some good ideas now and then, and now it’s time for Red to show off a few of his own.

“how bout you let _me_ figure out what i c’n get out of it?” Red chuckles, enjoying Sans’s flustered expression as he lets his curious tentacle explore the prize he just captured for it.

“oh, you uh….mmm….” Sans loses his words as Red’s piece slims out to slip between his ribs, moves around a little and fattens back up. Red sighs admiringly at their smoothness, purrs as he slithers around the more porous texture in back. Sans curses faintly as Red weaves it around a few, again when he tightens it. Sans huffs and closes his sockets, makes the same face Red noticed last night when he was gripping his ribs hard. Yeahhh, he _likes_ that.

“guess dex ain’t your dump stat, huh?” Sans pants, and Red can’t help snorting. Apparently Sans isn’t as clever with his, but that just makes Red more eager to show off. Red unwinds his ribs, takes his slithering length downstairs. Still maybe a half hour before this thing gets _real_ excited, so he doesn’t even need to corral it with his hands.

Sans huffs and shivers when he feels it touch his dick, opens his sockets to peer hazily down at what Red’s doing. There's concern for his bruise in there; neither of them can take careless handling. But Red’s feeling pretty damn intentional as he slithers around Sans’s boner from the top, starting just under the bruised head to curl down and around.

“oh, shit,” Sans says faintly. Red hums smugly as the coil tightens, relishing the slick friction of it rubbing against itself and Sans’s cock at the same time. He brings the sleeve he’s made of his piece even closer to the tip of Sans’s dick, but makes sure to stay well clear of the mark before tightening again. Little harder this time, and Sans gasps softly.

“hot or cold, sweetheart?”

“just right,” Sans mutters and reaches up to fondle Red’s bones. Stroking changes to holding on as Red really gets started, but if he wants to wait for Red, this should do it. He’s already avoiding the most sensitive parts of Sans’s genitalia, and this isn’t jacking it. It’s squeezing and coiling and slithering, not much up and down.

Red builds a slow, gentle rhythm, more restful than back-and-forth fucking since this one can move on its own. Seeking more, the tentacle keeps spiraling until the stiffened tip’s down under Sans’s dick. Red uses the flare to fondle the soft swell under Sans’s cock most monsters have instead of balls, although Red’s seen a few pairs in his time. Sans lets out a low, breathy croon when he does it, and a similar noise falls right out of Red’s skull at just how much Sans likes that. Yeah, he’s getting nice and wet for him. Red keeps at it and leans down for some makeouts, and Sans sighs another eager noise into him as their tongues tangle.

They relax right into a slow, wet fuck together, Red gently edging Sans’s battered dick while he works himself up nice and steady. Nothing but happy grunts and sighs as their slick mingles above and below, the delicious fog of it creeping in and twining them together just like their bodies. The tip of his piece fondles and wriggles underneath, Red shivering as it seeks more friction. Maybe he’s a little further along than he thought.

He doesn’t realize just _how_ mushy his thoughts are until Sans’s legs close suddenly between his, a whimper in his mouth that tells him it’s a flinch. Oh. Red kept rubbing under his cock, and that’s the kind of thing that’ll make your asshole come out eventually. Red’s piece is getting frisky, decided to get some friction there, too. Red has to concentrate to get it back where he had it, leans up to peek. Sans keeps his sockets shut, face resting against Red’s forearm. He leans in to give him a reassuring nuzzle, makes his tentacle as still as he can manage.

“’m not angling to get inside you, sweetheart,” Red whispers against the mark he left on Sans’s jaw. He’s definitely in the _mood_ to fuck Sans with it, but based on last night he’d say Sans is at least moderately butt-shy. And asking him to take a foot or two of tentacle up his ass for the hour minimum Red’d need to get off that way is probably a little much for a second date.

A hazy recollection surfaces, and Red adds, “but i could, uh, _help it along_ a little...”

Sans’s visceral shudder is gratifying enough to be its own reward. Sans remembers Red fingering his sacrum clearly _and_ fondly. This isn’t the same, but Red knows exactly how to make Sans feel good. It’s not for everyone, but Red likes his ass. It’s nice to play with a hole that’s the same all the time. Kinda soothing.

Sans is quiet, though, and Red’s about to assure him he’ll steer clear when a socket cracks open. The white pip inside is so hazy with want it sends a shiver down the length of Red’s tentacle, and Sans grunts as it finishes with the tip pressing his taint. This time he eases his legs apart, tilts his pelvis so Red slides back over his hole.

“see where it goes, i guess,” Sans says low and rough.

Red chuckles and leans back down, brings his arms in to hold him. Sans grunts when he takes Red’s weight, but it turns into another noise when Red starts moving again. Red’s piece is pretty sloppy, gliding back and forth over that tight furl of magic. Sans grunts and jerks when he diddles it with the tip. Red goes back to sliding, but when he tries it again, Sans moans like he’s trying not to. Red purrs with gratification and hugs Sans absently, smug he can do this while still teasing his dick. The response when he tries pushing at it lightly is even better, so he adds that to the repertoire as well.

Sans is trembling sweetly under him, body following his rhythm like they’ve been dancing for years. Right up until Sans’s pelvis jerks _down_ just when Red’s _pushing._ His tentacle slides right into that sopping-tight hole about two inches. Sans jolts and cries out, and Red scrambles a hand down fast to seize his excitable hectocotylus. He’s got control over it, but when shit like this happens it can grow a mind of its own.

“wait,” Sans breathes as Red goes to pull it out. Red waits, then huffs quietly as Sans rocks his hips. “is it, did it…?”

“lil bit.” Red clutches Sans close as they rattle against each other. “you okay?”

“...yeah.” Red groans as Sans gets wet here too, pinches his tentacle into submission when it decides to squirm about it. But Sans moves into it again, says, “d...do you wanna…?”

Red forces the breath he’s holding out in a big gush, tries to steady himself. If Sans can’t even say it, Red doesn’t feel too promising about _doing_ it. It’s not like last night, they don’t have to follow _every_ goddamn sex rabbit down its hole. A welter of complex emotions roils in him, and he tries to condense it into something expressible.

“just gonna play around, okay?”

Sans snorts. Red looks down. Sans is blushing and grinning up at him.

“you wanna play ‘just the tip’, huh? i know how that one ends...”

Red huffs in aggravation. “give ya a _tip_ , alright…” he mutters, ducking down to hide his unnervingly soft smile in Sans’ vertebrae. He leans on an elbow to free his other hand. Better to have it on site in case his tentacle tries to flout his will. He reaches down and strokes Sans’s femur as he gets moving again, melts that snark right out of him with a squeeze around his dick and a careful wiggle inside his ass.

Red’s playing it cool lasts all of ten seconds as Sans moans a curse and clutches at him, his hole tightening down in a maddening little tip-nip. Red groans helplessly through gritted teeth and lets the clenching push him back out, thanking all the little stars his control’s better now he’s not gaining little sips of LV every three weeks. Not gone, just...settled in. Red keeps squirming around, opening Sans now and then to slide in, let himself get squeezed and eased back out. Yeah. Just like a nice, deep rimjob.

All _Red_ wants to do is give Sans a real good time, vary the stimulation since his dickhead’s busted. What Red’s _hectocotylus_ wants to do is push into that tight heat and keep on going, get wetter and squirmier so Sans’s body expands enough to hold him, til his pelvis is heavy-full and glistening with Red. To hold Sans tight and still while he undulates inside him, letting Red’s load make its methodical way down Red’s piece until it expands the tip from the inside. To hold Sans tight and let him feel how full he is...until Red just has to give him his…

“fuck, red, _please_...”

That tight cough is laced to the core with white-hot desperation. Red pants softly, blinking his sockets at Sans’s sweaty, crumpled expression through the haze of a wet fuck. Sans’s bones are so tense they’re emitting a constant, faint rattle, and Red’s not sure how long he’s been on the verge of coming. So long _Red’s_ feeling close. He considers his fantasizing with a soft pang, how that’d make Sans feel with how sloppy they’re getting. Shit, and shit again for how hot Sans looks like this, moving desperately to try and get himself over the edge.

“i gotcha, sweetheart,” Red slurs. He moves the top coil of his hectocotylus featherlight over the tender head of Sans’s cock. Sans keens and bucks his hips, but Red settles his weight down to hold him still. He leans up on his hands dreamy-slow, arching over Sans’s trembling body like a drawn bow. “i gotcha...”

“i’m, i can’t--” Sans gasps, and Red lets out a low, comforting croon. Then he tries a little harder to form actual words. “s’okay,” he manages, skull bowed and heavy. He’s impressed. Sans really did wait for him. Red can feel the fullness of his load just under where the stiff, flexible tip starts. The pleasure of it dips and deepens, like a storm turning around itself to gain momentum. Red’s so fucking close, goddamn. But he'll get Sans off _first_ , so Red can actually do it right.

Red uses the coil of his length to stroke as hard as he dares, a buttersoft loop brushing Sans’s frenum but ohhh, it’s not enough. Sans’s hands are blanket-choked fists near his hips, and he sobs again with desperation. Red blinks down at them, and another low, rumbling croon tumbles out between his teeth. Red’s got him, yeah, he’s gonna get him there.

Sans cries out as Red presses back inside him, slightly deeper than before. He chokes and stiffens as Red curls his piece, searching. Sans needs just a little bit _more_ , so if Red just finds it….if he can just…. Sans’s sockets fly open, he makes a low, introverted growl as he fails to focus on his glow-in-the-dark-star-spattered ceiling. Red huffs as Sans’s hole trembles around him. Yeah, there he is. Red starts rocking insistently over the hardening bump inside, keeps gently stroking his cock as Sans both calms and tenses. There’s no thrusting even though Red’s brow drips with exertion, no in and out friction for Sans to grit his teeth through. His hectocotylus doesn’t want that anyhow, and this is all for Sansy.

Red grunts and shivers with the pleasure of it despite that. For the first time, he wonders if it’s possible Sans could actually outlast him despite the obvious physical disparity. But Sans gasps, then yells through his teeth as Red’s barely-brushing loop of tentacle smears the first blurt of wet heat. He’s coming, but it’s just the same slick. He’s holding it back, and Red’s only faintly disappointed. This is already a lot, and Red’s _awfully_ close.

Well, it is until it gets Red so fucking excited just on Sans’s slick, his load takes it as a cue and drops down into the tip. The swell feels much bigger than it actually is, but Sans is so tight he must feel it too. Because that’s when he spills. Not a lot, but more than enough to slap Red silly with its sizzle. Red’s thoughts barrel right up out of their midcoital syrup and zap into the urgency of his imminence plateau. Red's body thrums relentlessly with Sans’s _better than expected_ , with his astonishment at _the best, again_.

“ohhh, fuck!” Red says, loud and stupid as he lets Sans’s clenching force Red’s tentacle out of his ass. The pathetic bleat Red makes as its release lets the tip finish swelling might be embarrassing if he could give a shit right now, but he can’t. He grabs the distended magic and massages it while he milks Sans’s orgasm out long with the rest, but he can’t shut up, all, “oh fuckin’-, bitchin _stars_ , sweetheart, fuck...o- _ohh_ , you---eep!!”

Turns out Sans’s reflexes are back online too. Red _knows_ he’s stronger than he looks, but damn. Red’s not about to complain about being turtled when Sans already has his mouth on him. But he definitely finds something to holler about as he swallows the tip and then just _keeps going_.

Red huffs and moans like a bellows as Sans takes even more, like maybe….oh god, it’s like Red was thinking about while they were playing tentacle rimjob earlier. Letting Red’s enthusiasm deepen his mouth, the flat edge of his top teeth barely brushing him. Red’s too far gone on his own rising pleasure and Sans’s little spurt of spill to challenge the smug tilt of Sans’s sockets as he swallows. He just groans and trembles as tight magic closes around the inevitable shimmy of Red’s impending release. He’s never felt anything like it. Red’s never taken anything this deep in his _own_ mouth for that matter, holy _shit_.

“fuck, _sans_ -!” Red sobs, scrabbling uselessly like a crab around a knife. Sans keeps swallowing, washes of magic thrilling down Red’s length, squeezing the exquisite pressure of his load inside the tip of his squirming piece. If he lets it come out, it happens all at once like a little package. Takes a few minutes, generally. Red tries to garble a warning anyways, since what Sans is doing is making sure he can’t hold it.

The hazy points in Sans’s sockets brighten with sudden focus as he meets Red’s gaze and holds it. Then his fingers wrap around the base, tightening with intent. A violent shudder tears through Red as he puts tension on it, soreness utterly forgotten and now irrelevant. There’s more than one way for Red to bust this particular nut, and Sans is offering something Red never expected him to. Offering, and waiting.

Red cracks open like a dropped egg.

“oh my god, take it,” Red babbles breathlessly, “ _please_ take it, sweetheart, fuck, please, fuu-uu--- _UCK--!_ ”

Sans pulls _hard_ , and Red’s hectocotylus detaches.

Red screams hoarsely, jackknifing around the deep jolt of pleasure-pain at his core. Release burns searing-bright and perfect for an eternal second….and then Red just fucking _melts_ back onto the mattress, skull drenched with sweat and tears. He warbles from the depths of his soul as he watches Sans push the rest of Red’s junk into his mouth, sucking his fingers as he swallows it down.

Sans just popped the cork on every reward center Red’s body _has_ , and now it’s flooding his system with at least three times as much _fuck yes/good job/_ _win moar_ as when Red does it on his own. Guess it matters where it goes, too, because Sans sucking it _in_ that way is…fuck, it’s _doing_ something.

He’s having a hard time thinking, but that’s okay. That’s just fine; that’s feeling downright fuckin’ peachy. Red wriggles on his back like a lovestruck puppy, giggle-moaning as he fondles his own ribs and femurs in ecstasy. As an afterthought, he checks his pubis with a tender middle finger. The severed magic’s already done its minimal leaking, and the bud of his genitalia’s tucked back safe between the bones. Looks like Sans might be in the same boat since he’s leaned up now, fingerbanging his mouth and making all sorts of delicious noises, but….his other hand’s downstairs, jacking himself off fast and careless right over the indigo-bruised head.

Red feels a surge as hot and sudden as his temper, but its opposite. _Protectiveness_. There’s nothing in him left to fight it, or even second guess it. No…no, that precious little smudge doesn’t need hard fingers, it needs _Red_. Yeah. And he needs Sans, he _needs him_ and he might be saying that aloud because his mouth is still moving when he presses it to Sans’s.

Red licks deep into his own taste, inhaling Sans’s mewl as the itch kicks in. Red caresses are only a little sloppy as he fondles his way down and encourages Sans’s hand off his dick. That gets a lot easier once Red takes his collarbone between his teeth, lets Sans feel the points needle with promise. Yeah, he’s gonna take good care of him. He only lingers for one more nibble before shimmying down. He gives his cock a careful lick, and Sans sobs.

Stars, he tastes good. He wants Red’s mouth so much. Red blocks his teeth and takes him inside, but he doesn’t suck hard like he did for himself. He just bobs his head, mouth sweet and relaxed at the back. Gets his tongue busy at the base, yeah, but lets that bruise fuck into his soft throat like a hot dog in an innocent little pudding cup. Then he notices it _is_ actually fucking in, Sans thrusting and whimpering as he bites his fingers and struggles his hips to a standstill.

Red scrabbles to find Sans’s other hand and presses it to the back of his neck, paws his hip to encourage him. Shows him it’s _good_ , he _likes_ it.

“mnnnh?” Sans asks, brow furrowed with tenderness. He visibly steels himself to stop sucking his fingers, then brings those shaking phalanges down to cradle Red’s skull. They’re wet and gentle, and he doesn’t push.

“yeah?” he pants weakly. He nudges his dick inside Red’s mouth, and Red hums approval. Sans brings his other hand down too, strokes his thumbs under his sockets where his climactic tears dried. He nudges away Red’s tooth-shielding finger, and even in his daze Red steadies his skull right quick and looks up at Sans curiously.

Sans sighs and wraps his thumb across in its place, the fingers cradling him on that side too, now. Red sockets list deliciously; Sansy's gonna do it _all_ for him. Gorgeous. Red moans dizzily around the rigid heat of Sans’s cock, relaxing everything except his ceaselessly working mouth as Sans starts moving inside it.

Feels thick and blunt inside him, different than before. Not soft this time. Now _Red_ gets to be soft, gets to let Sans _have_ him. Thrumming and active, soaking his insides with wanting him. Wanting _Red_ ; god, it’s…. really something. It’s fast, yeah, Sans is all ragged breathing and insistent movement, but it’s not just boring slamming. He works his hips with shaky enthusiasm, curving to relish the plush, wet surfaces of Red’s luxury interior.

“s—stars,” Sans gushes, dragging his dick slow on Red’s tongue for a minute, “how, _how_ is it….ohh, fuck...”

Red whimpers and writhes as Sans takes his mouth, flattered that he’s already close again. His own pelvis is plucked bare and satisfied, but he starts welling more slick right from the tight crease of his pubis anyhow. A thin line of it paints the inside of his femur as Sans fucks and joggles him. Heh. Red didn't know it could do that. It’s cute.

He groans as Sans chases his pleasure at an increasingly frantic pace, Red getting even wetter because it just feels so _good_. All the way in now, deep enough he has to take in little gasps of air in through his nasal cavity on the backswing, makes the rim of it well up wetly along with his sockets. He makes some more noise, louder to hear how Sans fucking into his moanbox makes it stutter and glick. He reaches up to tickle his curled fingers at San’s busy pelvis. He unfurls them to let it rasp over his bony palms, loving all the sounds their bodies make together.

“here it comes, babe,” Sans pants deliriously, “you want it?”

Red hopes his garbled _mm-hmm_ gets the point across. Sans’s last few thrusts slap wetly, hungry little grunts pushed out of Red’s nasal aperture with each one. Sans locks up with a cry and pushes deep. He only holds for a second before easing back and rocking on his tongue. The heat of his come floods across it, Sans huffing and lurching with release. Their voices rise together, because Sans can’t hold back his spill this time, not even a little. It’s just what they wanted, and it’s everything they hoped.

Red shakes with his body’s memory of Sans coming in a different hole last night, the same gentle nudging as he fills Red with jizz. It's the same, and he loves it just as much. Red sobs with the searing intimacy of knowing what Sans looks like when he comes, how his body moves, how his dick tastes. Shakes because Sans feels it too, feels his body’s memory of pleasure so deep and sweet he hasn’t thought of much except feeling it again since. Sans _dreamed_ of it. He slept under Red’s body and dreamed he was inside it until it came true.

Sans is still coming when he starts begging, but Red knows how it is when backburnered heart-itch hooks hard the second you spill. Sans waited for him, then waited again. He was so good for him, and it’s high time Red gives him what he needs.

Red pulls off Sans’s spilling, twitching cock and sinks his teeth into his femur hard. Sans lets out a shuddering howl; he bites and holds there til Sans runs out of air. He pants for breath as he eases, yaps shortly as Red licks across his drooling dick on the way to the other thigh. Mmmm, just as good the second time. Red nibbles his way back up Sans’s body, lets him twitch and yell his release but doesn’t work him up any more. Sans’s dick goes slippery-soft between his legs. Beautiful and perfect, just like the rest of him.

By the time he’s straddling Sans’s face, the heart-itch has Red weeping again and he can’t even care. Mouth full of nothing but slurred sobs and mumbles he’ll regret later, he lets his slimy pubis kiss Sans’s teeth so gently it doesn’t make a sound.

Sans looks exhausted, but his head’s cleared enough that he stares up in shock once he parses what Red’s requesting.

“g-give it to me, sansy,” Red hiccups, letting his forehead hit the wall with a clunk to support his weaving skull as he looks down. A tear spatters Sans’s forehead, but he doesn’t flinch. “yeah...right where you did it. gimme what i need, g—ahh!” Sans’s tongue laves his pubis slow and savoring, and his sentence dissolves into a desperate whine.

Sans opens his mouth wider, takes broad, flat bones inside. Red pants in anticipation, scrabbling at the wall. Screams brokenly when Sans finally gives him his teeth, clawing til a few powdery chunks come free. It's a good one, but Sans switches to his thigh right quick. By the time Sans marks the inside of the other, Red sways under a wave of dizziness. He wobbles and collapses, but Sans grabs him quick and eases him down into his arms.

Red whimpers, anxiety already trying to get its hooks into him. What was he saying, what was he….doing? Sans saw him with….he told him he….he just sat right on his fucking face and _demanded_ … Red tries to heave himself up and away, feels a deep pang when Sans’s arms tighten so hard he comes along, too. No, he fucked up. _He’s_ fucked up, he’s…. Red tries again, but...he’s not letting go. He won't.

Red has to close his sockets and shiver for a long, hot minute. He knows he’s gonna give in. Then he does. Red shimmies back under the blanket so Sans can tangle their limbs up. He turns them into a pile of small, shaky bones and huffed breaths. _Safe_. Red's already losing consciousness.

“sleep w’ me,” Sans whispers all weird and slurred. “….stay….”

***

Red finally opens his sockets to a brownish blur when a delicious smell makes itself no longer ignorable. The blur coagulates into a pizza box lid. A blur to its left becomes Sans fucking around on his human phone, eating a slice of pizza whose toppings are in imminent danger of sliding onto the sheets, and using Red’s pelvis as a table. The light’s golden now. It's the part of the afternoon when both of them are more willing to consider extended consciousness. Within reason.

Red grabs a slice and starts eating. He’s fucking starving, which can happen when you let someone yank genitalia almost as tall as you are off your body and eat it. Probably be a fucking week before he can get anything to come out again. He hopes Sans appreciates it. Speaking of which, Sans has not looked at or acknowledged him in any way yet. Red devours his breakfast anxiously, takes a second slice. A third as he tries to wake up and think at the same time. That usually doesn’t go well for him, but. Circumstances dictate what’s advisable.

Cir _cum_ stances.

H….heh.

Eh.

“what do you think of this?” Sans rumbles abruptly, turning his phone to Red. Red snatches it as he continues to eat, smearing the screen-cover they invented so their fingers would work on them with grease. Well. More grease. It’s a net-set class build of gear for another game they play, the one they were doing last night before they got too drunk and switched to the guitar one. But not before Sans lost his guy. Again.

“i think you could make a lotta shit explode,” Red says with his mouth full. The sound of it reminds him that it’s been that way a lot in the past 24 or so. As does his voice emerging like a rusty bike over gravel with all the hollering. His tongue is….sore? Sensitive? He doesn’t know, but he can actually taste _pepper_ in the pepperoni. He swallows the bite whole, suppresses a self-conscious urge to cough and continues.

“just one problem. sir dickcheese is dead as a doornail.”

Red likes to play in the mode where if you die, that’s it. Lose your character, levels, and gear, blim-blammo, gotta start all over. Sans goes along with it so they can play together, even though he loses his lil duders constantly. He raises the new ones up right back up just as fast, though. Has a whole stash full of gear just for that. Red suspects that’s actually Sans’s favorite part. And he gets double experience if he plays with Red’s maxed out wizard, who he’s had from the beginning.

“i remember,” Sans says mildly. “that’s why you’re drinking _this,_ then getting your ass back to mars so i can twink up another paladin with buttnards.”

He tosses a small bottle of a stimulant drink Grillby makes on Red’s pillow, where it rolls to clink against his skull. Red pointedly eats another piece of gifted pizza, then sits up and lets the now-empty box slide off. He looks for his shirt, noticing Sans is already re-dressed. Red snatches up the gifted drink to cover his flustered expression; it must not work since Sans huffs a laugh at him. Then he stretches long, yawning and shaking. When he straightens, he also throws one of his shirts at Red’s face. Red catches it of course, and puts it on. It might even actually be clean.

Sans burps and licks his phone clean. Then he gets up, still fucking around on it, and goes downstairs to let Red get his face straight. Red feels another deep, disquieting wibble somewhere deep and important. He drinks another bottle of water. After that and his other generously provided refreshments….yeah. Face & ass are a little achey, but his hangover’s deader than Sir Dickcheese.

Sans is being awfully solicitous all of a sudden. Red stuffs his weird feelings as far back down as he can in the Weird Feelings Hole, but they burble back up as soon as they hit a rhythm in the game downstairs. Red tells Sans he’s gonna sissy-tank, cranks the difficulty up as high as he can handle. Sans can keep dodging if he wants to live.

Okay, so. They fucked. Whatever. Sans doesn’t have to give him pizza and special drinks and games and used shirts and shit now. Maybe it’s just…something they do now. When they hang out. They’re grownass adults with plenty of crust, ain’t anyone’s concern. Not like anyone actually knows what they _already_ get up to when they hang out anyways.

It’s hard for Red to feel like they’re doing anything more illicit than what they have been.

Playing.

Kids in Underfell don’t…didn't…really get to do that. Red didn’t either, but it’s not like it would have occurred to him. But Red’s bro ain’t like that. Red never bothered giving him the reasons he couldn’t do what he wanted, just told him no. Didn’t wanna hear it, too tired or hurt or busy, too fucked in the head over a buncha shit that made him those things. Always with the yelling and arguing how he was grown enough, big enough, strong enough...until one day he just slapped Red in the face with I’M A _CHILD_ , BROTHER. CHILDREN ARE SUPPOSED TO _PLAY_.

Red had been so concerned about making sure his baby bro didn’t get fed the same shit sandwiches _Red_ grew up eating, he went ahead and invented whole new recipes.

Right before Red breaks through the glass floor of his own nasty psyche, Sans does one of his laborious grunt-sighs that means he’s about to ask Red something. Red manages to pull it back, and flushes again when it’s easier than he thought. Like he really wants to hear whatever Sans is going to say. It’s weird.

“hey, so. that new class for this comes out next week.”

“yeah,” Red says shortly. He knows. He’s been leaving pamphlets for conventions happening within the next two months in Russy’s proximity even since it got announced. He hopes it’s the soonest one, that way he only has to wait three more-

“was thinkin’ hot pockets n beer at midnight? ‘less you want another pizza, but you’re buyin’. and you’d have to come before ten cause the place stops delivering after that.”

Sans is suggesting he come over right _then_. Not when Paps is gone and he needs the world’s least qualified depression oversight buddy.

Red freezes for a split second, then forces himself back into his careless, spreadeagle slouch. Wiggles as if he was scratching his ass on the couch hands free or something. Sans is actually sharing it with him instead of starfishing on his poop emoji chair thing. Red pretends to be caught up in the game, mashing buttons and dodging missiles as fast as he can which is fair, considering the difficulty setting. Sans’s character’s off to the side, waiting for his cooldown to refresh before casting, then waiting again.

“no big if you got shit to do then,” Sans says casually. For some reason that careful sentence scalds Red’s soul like acid. Sans thinks Red doesn’t _want to_ now, he--

The computerized dying scream of Buttnards the Wizard is so abrupt Red physically flinches back from it.

He watches everything she had fall to the ground and disappear, never to be seen again. Sans quacks faintly, hits the button to leave the fight. He can’t survive it even fifteen levels of difficulty lower, which happens automatically when Red’s character dies.

Red’s staring dully at the screen in horror.

“…you okay, dude?” Sans asks, serious concern in his voice.

“no big deal,” Red whispers hoarsely.

He’s devastated. The interior of his soul is holding a shoebox funeral for his dead video game character, complete with Taps and all Buttnard’s favorite toys. The pants that let you jump three times instead of once. The triply enhanced shield of shielding. The dagger that’s literally just a hamburger.

“it’s, uh.” He already said _no big deal_. “hey, so. maybe i c’n borrow your stash gear next time paps hits the road, huh?” he babbles hoarsely. “twink up a nice lil buttnards junior.”

Sans cocks his skull at Red.

“you don’t have to wait for paps to be gone to come over,” he says slow and careful.

Like it’s so obvious, as if Red ever _has_ unless it’s a group thing or a _real_ reason. Red’s breathing goes quick and shallow. Fuck, does Sans _know_? The gifts, the asking, the concern on his face right now…. Yeah, okay, so. Red’s had plenty of sex. Had plenty of _arrangements_ and _fuckbuddies_ and _i-know-a-guys_.

Red has no fucking idea what this is. No clue what the hell Sans _wants_ from him right now, what he’s trying to, to _say_ here….

Sans’s expression changes abruptly, and Red’s humiliation deepens. Fucks sakes, he’s gonna _reassure_ him now.

“...hey,” Sans says gently like Red’s some kinda feral animal. “you don’t hafta fuck me, ei-”

“are you askin' me _out_?!” squirts breathily out of Red’s skull and ruins everything.

Sans’s eyes shrink to tiny, faint pinpricks.

“i, uh...”

Red casually exits the couch with the force of a thousand blushing suns, yelling “ _don’t_ you _fuckin_ ’ answer that!” as the controller makes a hollow plastic clack-thud on the floor.

The concern and surprise on Sans’s face skews into genuine alarm.

Red takes a step that ends in his own living room.

“WELL! _YOU’RE_ BACK FROM ‘ _OUT_ ’ SOONER THAN I...”

Red wheels around and barely manages not to summon a bone attack.

Edge looks up from his paperwork at the dining room table, trailing off as he narrows his eyes at his brother in the slightly darker room. Red doesn’t really want to think about what this looks like. He’s flipping his shit too hard to conceal it from his own brother… and he’s still wearing Sans’s shirt….but maybe he can pretend he’s pissed about--

Edge tries to swallow a sudden, guttural grunt, then delicately rests his gloved wrist over his nasal cavity.

Oops.

“what’s your major _malfunction_ , boss?” Red snaps, mistakes just piling right on. As if asking him rudely enough will somehow _prevent_ the answer. Edge gives him a remarkably unimpressed look, which he thoroughly deserves. Then actually uses his _indoor_ voice on him, the horrible little turd.

“I’m sure Sans is quite satisfied regardless,” Red cringes down to his soul, “-but would it truly have killed you to at least _pretend_ to take a shower before coming home?”

Red trembles and lifts his chin in challenge, already well beyond his limit. “i don’t have to take this shit from you, kid,” he whispers dangerously.

Edge cocks a browbone in the face of mortal peril.

“You smell like a prison-toilet stills exploded in a ham factory, brother,” he says crisply. “You may convey my congratulations to your pelvis, but I don’t care to be in the same hemisphere until you scrape what has to be several days’ worth of dried sex off of it.”

Red feels his face fall. He doesn’t need a mirror when he’s got his bro’s surprised smugness at having his suspicions confirmed blaring across the table like an airhorn.

“yeah, well,” Red chokes, quivers as he thinks fast and stupid, “that’s a dangling participle.”

Edge sputters, his crimson eyes blurring as he visibly goes over his own sentence in his head. Red disappears again in the confusion. Still slams the bathroom door behind him. He’s got no fucking idea if what he said was true or not. Edge told him he was gonna spend the weekend doing paperwork without Red’s “shitty music” blasting through the house at random intervals, day and night. He didn't even forget, he just didn't _think_.

He didn’t think at all, he realizes, struggling out of his clothes with needless effort. He turns the knob and thwacks the shower on, lets the steam explode up to fill the tiny room. It dampens his unwashed bones, and the itching gets unbearable. Because yeah, he and Sans didn’t even use a washcloth, just licked the powder wet and recycled their fuckdust. Big fucking whoop. Red climbs into the shower, as usual not bothering to even touch the cold spigot. He’s not actually mad about his brother telling him he smells like a fuck shit stack, or that his less-of-a-figure-of-speech-than-expected Walk of Shame had an unbearable audience of one.

Sans gave him time to get his head together, and Red just barreled downstairs half baked, half-cocked, and ready to dropkick the fragile new spiderweb of Something between them to death even when _not_ given the least opportunity. That’s what he’s finally noticing. Red turns his back to the powerful spray, shaking his skull in absent defeat. He spreads his stubby legs, bends over til his folded arms touch the wall, and thonks his forehead along with its useless contents onto their crux.

Red lets the near-boiling water punish his tender pelvis with cleanliness, and lets out a long, shaky breath.

Red’s a fucking idiot.

Sans _always_ does that shit. Buys the pizza, gives Red candy or Pocky, shares Grillby’s liquor and takeout, gets expansions and DLC and fancy controllers and all sorts of other shit to make the time they spend together...better.

 _Investing_ in it.

Sans acted just like always, and Red’s the one flipping his shit because they fucked. Because how Sans always acts is the real reason Red wanted to fuck him in the first goddamn place.

Sans is _nice_. To _Red_. To an abrasive, violent little goblin with more chips than he has shoulders, and Sans acts like he’s not. Or….acts like he _is_ , but like it doesn’t bother him. And yeah, Red doesn’t actually believe that for a hot fucking second, but the more time he spends with Sans…

The more he... _wants_ to believe it?

Something like that. Guess it doesn't matter anymore, though. Red really--

Red freezes like a toad in the road as he hears the buzz of his phone. Even muffled in the shorts piled on the floor, over the roar of the shower and the hiss of hot water hitting his bones. Over their increasing rattle, because that vibration pattern means Sans.

Red steps on the mat and stares down at the pile, shivering like he just got fucking born or something. Gahh, he’s being stupid. Red snatches up his (wow, okay yeah his bro wasn’t kidding about the smell now Red got a break from it, oof) shorts and peels the phone free, pulls up his messages.

Two words.

yeah maybe

Unpunctuated.

Red _told_ him not to answer that, but Sansy ain’t fucking listening. And Red’s too slow on this particular draw to have predicted that he should have thrown his phone into the ocean. Now everyone’s just gotta live in the consequences of his failure.

hey let me know when you’re done flipping ur shit

i mean i already settled the bet with myself. it was a real slobberknocker for a minute there but i owe me five bucks

A fucking period? A _sentence_?? What’s fucking next, vocative commas? By Sans’s usual standards, this is already a...not a novel; Red _likes_ those. An epic poem, maybe, since he can’t unravel what the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean. A bet with himself about _what_? But that’s just how Sans is, the fucker. A riddle wrapped in a fart joke, all hot air.

Cause it’s not what Sans says that really matters.

It’s what he _does_.

Red drips nakedly and pants shallowly, watching the dots bob around like a...he doesn’t know what they’re like. He’s soft, he _always_ gets like this. Hung up by his heels by fucking someone more than once, strung out over a little heart-itch. Pathetic. He’s foolish, and fools get what they deserve. The dots disappear, and words take their place.

i just need to know when it’s my turn

to flip out about it

hey dude let’s pretend you getting weird & bailing didn’t happen instead of pretending the orgasms didn’t

i liked those better

Red’s shoulders heave.

BITE MY BAG, ASSHOLE

Red sends it before thinking about his phrasing. He sucks at written communication. Sans makes him pay like always...by still _acting_ like always. That’s what Red needs right now, and Sans _gives_ Red what he needs….even when he does his best to not to let anyone give it to him.

i liked that part too lol

Red’s eye jitter as he tries desperately to figure out if he meant the biting or playing with Sans’s asshole. He growls in annoyance when he remembers yeah, he probably meant to imply both. His growl turns into a weird little whimper. Red huffs and trembles, barely able to see through the density of steam between his skull and the phone.

Sans always does this. Smooths shit over with Red instead of letting him invent noses to cut off. Calls him out on his shit, then backs off to give him space to pretend otherwise and keep his fucking dignity. The parts he has left, anyhow. Like Sans gets how dear they cost him, how few he has left.

Why they matter.

Red can barely see his phone as his thumbs stumble over the letters.

It’s the _steam_ , goddammit.

what the fuck u expect me to do here sweetheart

Before he has a chance to calm his soul’s roiling just from that, more dots. Shit, does he-

hey

Red waits and drips, soul fluttering.

why don’t you eat a dick? i did ;-)


End file.
